


Flirting with Disaster

by 24_centuries



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/24_centuries/pseuds/24_centuries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that first time, Mickey can't get a certain redhead off of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirting with Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shamelessquestions (KagekitsuneXXX)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagekitsuneXXX/gifts).



> Canonical use of racist language used herein. Set during Season One.
> 
> Beta by mandyfuckinmilkovich. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome! (Though, if it is with regard to my title or summary. I am fully aware that they suck and I've tried for years to remedy this to no avail!)

The first time didn't count. Well, it counted, it definitely counted in a way in Mickey's mind but it all happened so quickly that there wasn't time. No time to talk, no time to explain. After a split second, where Mickey had time to think "holy shit, is Gallagher ...", there was only the frantic _tug-shove-pull_ to remove their clothing and then: Mickey on his back, sweat and goose flesh popping out on his skin everywhere Gallagher's body pressed against his; left arm holding his upper body above Mickey as his hips pressed down and rolled over and over -- sharp, quick thrusts that rocked the bed against the wall and Mickey should have cared about that, was going to say something about that because fuck, his Dad was right outside this door, hungover and bound to be pissed off when he woke up and that was before he found his youngest son getting pounded by a dude; but, but fuck Gallagher just felt so _good_ and Mickey's brain kept short-circuiting enough that he just couldn't care about his Dad right then -- so that their dicks kept stroking against as much skin as possible. Mickey's tongue was caught between his teeth, holding in pleas and moans alike; Gallagher's strong, large, beautiful hand reaching between them, wrapping around their cocks; Mickey going off, coming hard as soon as Gallagher squeezed the second time; slowing down and milking Mickey's orgasm from him, then using Mickey's come as lube for his own release; Mickey's spent, over-sensitive cock twitching as Gallagher didn't let go until his own release was over; collapsing, right next to Mickey and barely catching his breath before Mickey's Dad walked in the fucking door.

The rest of that morning was a blur in his mind, punctuated by important snippets like his Dad not castrating or killing them and Gallagher's mouth as it came closer to Mickey before he shut that shit down. 

So, that was that. They fucked and Mickey got the gay shit out of his system for the next little while. But it wasn't anything he had to worry about. It counted for Mickey – it was the hottest thing he could remember experiencing and he still remembers the first time he had a legit dude suck him off so that's saying something – but they didn't really fuck so, it counted and it didn't count. Either way, he banged two girls that night and he was fine. They weren't great but they were female and that was all that counted. 

He kept at it, fucking girls. It was normal, it was right, it was _expected._ That last part was the most important bit. So yeah, he fucked girls. But it was punctuated by sporadic and not-so-sporadic images of Gallagher. So when Rachel Pitts climbed on top of him and leaned forward, snapping her hips down and locking her hands onto Mickey's shoulders for balance or some shit, it was definitely possible that Mickey pictured a certain redhead holding him down. Only, in his mind, it wasn't Gallagher getting pounded. Mickey was taking it and Gallagher just kept pressing down on his shoulders, squeezing hard enough that there would be dark, red marks for sure, if not bruises. Mickey came, hard, after a particularly exuberant slam of Rachel's hips against his, Mickey's own hips being pressed against the bed just as hard as her nails were digging into his shoulders and it was good -- really good with the images playing in his head -- but Mickey felt the ache that wasn't being filled by Rachel. He knew he'd be fingering himself to the images of Gallagher again tonight like he had been every night since the morning...That Morning. Rachel seemed happy enough, spouting off some bullshit about how "that was new" and telling him to call her again any time he wanted to do _that_ again. 

So Mickey stopped by the Kash and Grab the next day, waiting across the street for that Towelhead to leave. He had fingered himself again before leaving the house that morning (no qualms about that anymore after he discovered how fucking good it felt to shove his fingers, among other things, up there) and was still feeling kind of good and loose and kept squeezing and clenching around nothing as he waited for Gallagher to be alone and -- shit, shit! That shouldn't have even been a thought in Mickey Milkovich's head, he shouldn't have been anticipating anything after Gallagher was alone. He should have just walked away, left it alone. It was stupid to think there was someone on the Southside that could be trusted with this, someone that wouldn't go blabbing to his Dad for the right price. But Gallagher had kept his mouth shut and no one knew so, maybe no one had to know. Mickey would just go in there and get a blow job or something -- though even with that thought, his fucked up mind pictured Mickey as the one on his knees, face pulled tightly against a crotch full of fire-red pubes as he choked and gagged on the thick cock as it was unceremoniously shoved down his throat. 

Mickey snapped back to reality as he saw Gallagher hold the door for some old broad. Mickey would have snorted and gone over to mock him but he was instead stock-still, frozen in place from the barrage of images his own perverted mind had just supplied. He took a few minutes to calm down before sauntering over to the door, saying some bullshit about jerky with plenty of innuendo, but he was really just trying to play it cool and not let on that his half-hard dick had sprung back up as soon as Gallagher had locked eyes on him. Mickey happily followed him to the back cooler -- and Mickey wanted to say something about why couldn't they fuck in the store room where it wasn't like 40 degrees but the cold air helped deflate his cock a bit and anything that let Mickey keep his edge over Gallagher was fine by him -- and spit on his own fingers before reaching back and opening himself, enjoying the sharp gasp from Gallagher and the intensity of his stare. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off Mickey and his arm or the way Mickey's mouth had fallen open as he twisted his fingers and spread them just a little. Gallagher finally just lunged at him, pulling him by the arm that was still frantically moving and slamming him face first against the wall. Mickey was going to say something, fuck Mickey was going to kill him for thinking he could just slam him around like he was just anybody, but Gallagher pressed his own fingers against Mickey's hole, his own fingers being instantly removed when Gallagher started manhandling him. He pressed two of those long, perfect fingers inside, no hesitation at all. But Mickey was loose and ready and had been aching for this so he just smacked his hands against the cooler door and rolled his hips back into the touch, letting his forehead hit the door at the incredulity of Ian fucking Gallagher knowing exactly how to open a guy up, making it deep and hard and good. He wanted to tell him to fucking stop and just get on him already but his tongue felt too big and his mind was having trouble grasping the concept of "stop" so he just kept rocking back faster and faster, letting out a moan when Gallagher wrapped a hand around his hip and squeezed as he finally pulled his hand back. 

"Fuck, Mickey. I have to fuck you right the fuck now." 

Mickey would have nodded or said yes or grabbed Gallagher's cock and shoved it inside him but he didn't have to. It was just there, stretching him impossibly wide and feeling fucking fantastic. There was a slight burn, even with all the abuse Mickey's hole had already taken that day but Mickey pressed back anyway, dying to be filled completely by Gallagher and his who-fucking-knew perfect dick. Gallagher grabbed him by both hips and slammed inside him, giving Mickey no time to prepare or savour the moment before he pulled back and did it again and again, fucking Mickey like he owned him or some shit. Mickey appreciated a good fuck but no one fucking owned him. He squeezed and clenched around Gallagher's cock and pushed back, fucking back as well as he was getting fucked. Gallagher didn't seem to mind if the stupid noises he was making were anything to go by but Mickey was so caught up in said noises that he didn't even feel Gallagher let go of his right hip until the hand was skirting over his stomach and wrapping around his cock. Mickey came, immediately. 

Later, Mickey would think that this was becoming a bullshit pattern and that Gallagher's hands shouldn't be able to do that with just one or two touches, but that was later. In that moment, all he could do was shout into his forearm and whimper as he braced himself, his body continuing to rock with Gallagher's hips, Mickey's own skin hypersensitive to every single jolt but too immobilised to do anything about it. He just slumped forward and let Gallagher do whatever because he was helpless, for that one moment, and maybe because he liked the feel of the gusts of breath expelled against his neck and the force of the hips as they slammed into him and the squeeze-release-squeeze of the hand still on his left hip. Mickey liked it all so he figured he could deal with being a bit helpless, just for that one moment. Gallagher finally finished and Mickey had the split second to think "what the FUCK" before he shoved the drooping body off of his back and spun around as quickly as he could with his ankles still trapped by his jeans. 

"What the FUCK, Gallagher? You didn't use a fucking condom!" 

Gallagher had the fucking nerve to blush and look down before he answered Mickey. 

"I don't exactly keep condoms on me at work, Mickey! I've never -- I've never had to supply them before so I didn't even think --" 

"Fuck right you didn't think. Shit! I'm gonna have your ginger fucking spunk leaking out of my ass all fucking day!" Mickey squirmed as he could already feel the uncomfortable sensation of something trickling out of his hole. Gallagher was saying something but Mickey didn't even listen, just bent over and pulled his pants up, pushing once against his hole on the sly to try and get it to stop fucking leaking with no success. 

Well, he thought it was on the DL but Gallagher was gaping at him like he had when Mickey was fingering himself. 

"No fucking way. Whatever you're thinking, no fucking way. I'm going down to the free clinic tomorrow to get checked out and if you didn't give me any fucking diseases, I'll maybe think about letting you near me again." 

Mickey had avoided Gallagher's face as he set his clothes to rights and stormed out of the cooler. He couldn't resist a quick glance back at him though, right before he reached the door. Gallagher was _staring_ at Mickey's ass as he walked! Mickey felt the rage flood him and felt his cheeks flood with anger as well. He ducked his head and clenched his fists to avoid decking the kid, squeezing hard as his hands just wanted to fly out and grab ahold of Gallagher. Mickey was afraid of what he might do with all this sudden _rage_ flooding his system so he just walked out, Gallagher still on his heels, and wrapped his scarf around his neck. 

Gallagher made some smart-ass comment about this being a booty call or some shit but Mickey just threw out a "whatever" and walked away. It would be a shame to burn a bridge by putting a guy in the hospital who could fuck like that, even if that guy was too stupid to fucking wrap it up before sticking it in him. Mickey just kept walking away, clenching and unclenching his fists as he put more and more space between them, hoping to god he got a clean bill of health from the clinic the next day. 

If not, he was tracking that fucking ginger down and pounding him into the fucking ground, before making him fuck Mickey again, just like that. If they both had something, couldn't hurt to keep fucking anyway, right? 

It took a almost an hour, the most uncomfortable hour of Mickey's life, before the spunk stopped coming out. Mickey jumped in the shower faster than he ever had in his life and shoved three fingers up his hole, fucking them in and out as hard as fast as he could, as he replayed that afternoon in his head. He only jerked his dick at the very end, milking out everything he possibly could as he remembered the weight of Gallagher on his back and the disgusting, filthy feel of his spunk getting all up inside Mickey. 

A guy had just shot off in his ass. Yeah, Mickey thought, that one definitely counted. 

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS UNOFFICIALLY SUBTITLED AS FOLLOWS:
> 
> Kay’s mutha-effing story: she’s seriously about to reach across the internetz and start strangling me, you guys. Just read.
> 
> I'm Just Saying. But seriously, this probably would have taken me another week of editing the same three paragraphs Fifty Flipping Times if she hadn't kicked my butt and made me post. Thanks, BB <3!
> 
>  **IMPORTANT:** In this fic, Mickey refers to the sex as "counting" after they've had penetrative anal sex. This in no ways reflects my own beliefs regarding sex, penetration, and gay males. Across a few different studies, around 20% of all gay males stated that they did not engage in penetrative anal sex at all. I felt it was in-character for Mickey to feel this way, however, I wanted to clarify my own personal beliefs.


End file.
